I don’t.

“The older you get, the less you know. It’s a sign of maturity. Teenagers are the ones who know nothing but think they know everything.” I remember my mom saying something along these lines when I was in my teens, eye-rolling and sighing and certain that I was, of course, the exception.

Turns out she was right.

Ironic that the one-word prompt is understanding. Because I just don’t.

I cannot comprehend how a person goes into a night club, a school, or a theater and murders people.

I don’t understand the thinking that arguing about politics, religion or gun control is going to solve anything – one way or another. Why do we think that by yelling and screaming our beliefs and ideologies at each other that we are somehow going to magically convert each other to the opposite viewpoint? I’m baffled by the hate, both online and in real life.

I don’t know how to explain this stuff to my kids.

I gravitate toward fitness and fun and light because that is my happy place. That’s where I can effect change, the space where I have understanding. I sit here in front of my keyboard, my kids watching superheroes on tv with my Bible in my lap. There is so much I don’t understand.

How do I equip them?

I don’t understand how love for your faith translates to murdering people who don’t think like you do.

I don’t know.

What I do know is that the people that claim to have all the answers make me uneasy.


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